


Armistice

by MsSolo



Series: Detente [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Bullying, Fluff, Gen, High School, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsSolo/pseuds/MsSolo
Summary: Damian tries to tell himself that at least this has bought him some time before he has to face his father. That somehow it's better than Dick's cloying sympathy. That Pennyworth deserves time to work on his hobbies without being dragged hither and thither over nothing. But none of it's true, it'sDrake, and he's here to witness Damian's humiliation.





	Armistice

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this as pre-slash, because if my motivation holds out this is going to be part of a much longer TimDami series, but I'm actually really enjoying just writing them developing an adult friendship. They've got so much in common; they just need to find a way to see past everything they hate about themselves in each other. There's at least two more posts that are just friendship, so if you prefer Gen it'll stay that way for a while, and if you prefer MM you can read that into it.

It's halfway through Junior year when Damian snaps. He shouldn't have. He couldn't even explain it if he wanted to. But he knows father will call on him to explain, and he needs to find a way to do that. He might not be able to control his actions, but he should be able to justify them.

Seb Goldwater sits on one chair, Damian on the other. Seb's parents are already here. Damian tries not to draw in on himself, reminds himself father is late because he's more important than the Goldwater's. He's on the Justice League satellite. The Goldwaters were playing golf. 

The Goldwaters are talking to Headmaster Hammer already. The battle to be in control of the truth has already been lost. Damian can only control his narrative, but he can't make it make sense to himself still. He needs to figure it out before father arrives.

"Gaymian," Seb sings under his breath. "Gaaaay-meee-an."

Damian ignores him. Seb has been calling him that for two years now. That can't have been what made him snap. He's an assassin, a Robin, a Wayne. Playground taunts are water off a duck's back to him. 

The tap of dress shoes echoes down the hall. Damian looks up, and the bottom drops out of his stomach.

Drake.

He's come from Wayne Enterprises. He must have been in the lab, because he's not wearing a suit jacket and his hair is up in that ridiculous bun he's started favouring. 

Damian is on his feet. Seb snickers behind him.

"Why is it _you_?"

Drake stops. An unhappy smile tugs at his lips.

"I asked myself that," he says. "Bruce is... unavailable, as is Dick."

"But Pennyworth!"

"I checked after they called me. Gardening. Didn't hear the phone. I told him not to worry since I was already on my way."

Damian tries to tell himself that at least this has bought him some time before he has to face his father. That somehow it's better than Dick's cloying sympathy. That Pennyworth deserves time to work on his hobbies without being dragged hither and thither over nothing. But none of it's true, it's _Drake_ , and he's here to witness Damian's humiliation.

"Mr... Wayne?"

"Timothy Drake-Wayne," Drake says, looking past Damian to Hammer. "Headmaster Hammer?"

"Yes. If you'd like to step into my office?"

"I would like to speak to my brother, first, if that's okay." Despite his words, it's not a question, but Hammer ignores that.

"That won't be necessary."

Drake's lips thin. "Nevertheless."

"Mr Wayne."

"Drake-Wayne."

"The Goldwaters have been waiting some time."

"A few more minutes won't make a difference, then. I'm sure their caddy will appreciate the extra time to finish polishing their clubs."

For all their differences over the years, watching Tim use his skills to misfoot an opponent is always a learning opportunity. Damian's pride won't permit him to ask Drake how he knows the Goldwaters were playing golf before when he hasn't even seen them, but he makes a note to try and figure it out for himself later.

Drake reaches up and puts a hand on Damian's shoulder and steers him into the teacher's rest room. Students aren't allowed in here. It's disappointingly mundane, the same as the student bathrooms.

"I looked them up," Drake says once they have a modicum of privacy. Damian's annoyed to have the mystery cleared up so prosaically. "The secretary gave me a basic run down of what happened."

"So why do you need me to recount it?" Damian asks.

Drake checks his appearance in the bathroom mirror. He looses his hair from the bun and ties it back up again, a little neater and tighter.

"I don't, really, but I wasn't going to let Hammer think he can call the shots." He meets Damian's eyes in the mirror. "Is there anything you want to tell me before we go in?"

Damian resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself, and folds them across his chest instead. His blazer strains at the seams. At first he was pleased to outgrow his brothers, but he's tired of it now. Tired of the growing pains, tired of his constantly changing centre of balance, tired of feeling like a stranger in his own body.

"Sebastian is a bully," Damian says. "I've stepped in on occasion, when it wouldn't look out of place or risk my identity. I think I've had a positive effect, drawing his attention away from the more vulnerable students."

Drake's gaze snaps to Damian's face. "He's bullying _you_?"

"Tt. He occasionally throws juvenile insults in my direction. Stick and stones... you know the saying, Drake."

"I know it's bullshit," Drake says. He sighs. "Anything in particular that made today the day?"

"The day?"

"The straw that broke the camel's back?"

Damian shakes his head. A flush rises in his cheeks, and his shoes suddenly become much more interesting.

"Damian?"

"There was... He did nothing. Nothing different. I was just weak, today. It won't happen again."

Father has been on the League satellite for over a week. He missed Damian's violin recital on Sunday. Dick was badly injured on patrol two nights ago, so Damian has been going out on his own. Pennyworth has had a cough for three weeks, which is the point where Damian's training suggests he ought to visit a doctor, but he hasn't gone. Nothing is different today.

"I should have ignored him," Damian says. "I know that."

"Yeah, I remember that advice. It's funny, because everyone always tells you that like it's some secret trick, like the bullies don't know that when you start ignoring them it's _because_ they're getting to you."

It's never occurred to Damian that Drake might have been a victim of bullying. Well, outside of Damian's own efforts. He drove Drake out of the manor. Drake hadn't ignored him, though. Drake had fought back, despite everyone's advice, despite the pressure put on him to put up with Damian's behaviour. It was easier for people to ask Drake to be reasonable than Damian. Damian tries to be reasonable. Reason is important to him. He hates that everyone thinks Drake is better at it, and that makes him anxious, which makes him angry, which makes him want to lash out at Drake. His fingers clench in his sleeves, and his shoulder seams creak ominously.

He risks a glance at Drake, wondering if his mind has gone in the same direction. Drake's jaw is set in a hard line, looking as angry as Damian has ever seen him, and Damian's heart sinks. He's reaping what he's sewn, today.

Drake leads the way out of the bathroom. He strides straight into Hammer's office, Damian still at his heels. Seb stumbles after them.

"So kind of you to join us, Mr Wayne."

"Drake-Wayne."

Drake waves Damian into the chair intended for himself, seating him next to the Goldwaters, while Drake stands over him. It's a lesson in powerplays straight from the WE boardroom, like Drake's refusal to be misnamed. Damian sits up straight in the chair, facing Hammer, but he wishes he could twist in his seat and watch Drake work. The Goldwaters have, they're looking up at him, throats exposed like prey.

"We take physical violence very seriously at Gotham Academy. Da-"

"And bullying?"

"Physical bullying is what I'm referring-"

"It's not what I'm referring to." Drake talks like the words taste bad. "I understand that Goldwater had put some time and effort into provoking a reaction from Damian."

And then, because the boy has all the wit and intelligence of Killer Croc, Seb snickers and sings, "Gaaaay-meee-an," under his breath.

The glossy wood panelling behind Hammer's desk make a poor mirror, the tableau reflected in at a Gaussian blur of indistinguishable figures, but it's enough to make out sharp movements, like the way Drake's head snaps round to stare at Seb.

"Are you _nine_?"

Seb recoils from the acid in Drake's tone. There's something about having his college age brother here that's different to his father or Pennyworth, or even Dick (though it's closer to Dick, the way Grayson exudes charm means the undeserving always feel like they've earned his approval anyway). Seb is _embarrassed_ to be called out by Drake. He wants Drake to like him.

Drake's attention returns to Hammer.

"This is what _I'm_ referring to."

"Goldwater will be reprimanded as well, but the school charter draws a clear distinction between-"

"You have a zero tolerance bullying policy?"

Hammer grinds his jaw. He isn't looking Drake in the eye any more.

"Our policies are clear. Physical violence is-"

"If you don't have a zero tolerance policy, then what you have is a pro bullying policy. Tell me, headmaster, what forms of bullying do you encourage? Verbal, clearly. Homophobic."

Hammer gets to his feet and pulls himself up to his full height. He's much taller than Drake, but the way Drake is leaning on the back of Damian's chair obscures Drake's real height, or lack thereof. His posture is casual, unthreatened.

"I have expelled a Wayne from this school before."

One of Drake's thumbs brushes the back of Damian's neck. Damian resists the urge to lean in to the touch. He's heard this speech before, and though he knows it's all bluster it still unsettles him. He's being asked to live up not to his father's legacy but this grandfather's, the man in the portrait. He doesn't want to disappoint that man.

"You've never expelled a Drake. You've never had a Drake to expel. I counselled Bruce against sending Damian here. He has so many more suitable options available to him."

"Gotham Academy is one of the most prestigious prep schools on the whole East coast."

Drake strokes Damian's neck again. It's reassuring. Grounding. Damian wonders why Drake's doing it.

"It's funny, Hammer, how the expulsions spike just before standardised testing season, isn't it?" Drake shifts behind him, the back of Damian's chair creaking, and Damian feels the abrupt loss of his touch. He's not sure from the reflection in the panelling, but his thinks Drake might have put his hands in his pockets, or maybe behind his back. "It's almost as though this school's exemplary results are not down to the quality of its teaching, but the careful pruning of its student body." Drake steps around Damian's chair to rest one hand on Hammer's desk. He leans in towards the larger man. "We both know that of the two boys here, Damian is the one you can't risk losing. He is a genius, and I'm not using that word colloquially."

Mr Goldwater snorts, and Damian remembers that Seb's parents are in the room. He's not the only one startled by this revelation, judging by the way Hammer and Drake both twitch.

"He's Bruce Wayne's son," Goldwater says. "Wayne of the Wayne theatre, and Wayne biology suite, and Wayne badminton court. Of course Hammer's not going to expel the boy."

Drake shakes his head. "Honestly, after today's revelations, I think the family needs to reassure itself that the Gotham Academy policies are inline with our charitable aims. Frankly, I am uncomfortable having even a portion of my name associated with an institute that fosters the kind of attitudes we've explored here."

"Can't have Brucie saddled with rumours about a gay son, you mean? The kid's too soft for his own good if he can't take a bit of good natured ribbing. You're coddling the boy; he'll never be prepared for the real world if you don't let him take his knocks, like Sebastian. That's what makes them turn, you know."

Drake pinches the bridge of his nose. "I don't even want to begin unpicking that," he says under his breath, but loud enough for the whole room to hear. "What kind of preparation is Ga-" He stops, and shakes his head. "I think we're done here, headmaster. I am taking Damian with me now. He will not be returning to school tomorrow, either."

Well, of course, not, he's been suspended until the end of the week for punching Seb. But somehow Drake makes it sound like his own idea.

"Whether he returns next week will be contingent on a discussion with Bruce. Personally, I'm going to advocate against it, but I know _Brucie's_ judgement is clouded by nostalgia on this issue. The Wayne Foundation will be reaching out to you at some point in the next month to initiate an audit, to ensure our money is being well spent."

He stands up straight for possibly the first time during the whole meeting, and puts a hand on Damian's shoulder.

"Is there anything you need to fetch?"

Damian shakes his head.

"We'll take our leave, then. Thank you for meeting with me, headmaster. Mr and Mrs Goldwater."

Damian follows him out of the office, grabbing his school bag from where he's left it on the chairs outside. Drake keeps up a brisk pace through the school, the tap of his dress shoes echoing through the halls loud enough to earn them glances through class room windows. Damian knows he can move silently even in the hardest soled shoes, so it's another deliberate decision. He wants the whole school to know Damian is being suspended. 

Damian's sinking mood is buoyed up a little when he sees the Ferrari. It's one of Drake's work cars, so it's not quite the garbage pit that most of his personal spaces are (Damian submitted the mould growing in a take out containers from Drake's safe house to school for a science project), but the back seat is piled with reports and other paperwork. There's a jacket that belongs to an entirely different suit to the one Drake is wearing, and three different ties. A tablet sits on the passenger seat, and Damian picks it up as he slides in. Drake has the Goldwater' diaries open, and another tab with the school's intranet open. He's plotted the dates of exclusions against the SAT dates in Google Sheets, overlaid with predicted and actual performance.

Drake starts the engine, and Damian puts the tablet down to buckle up, but they don't pull away from the school. Damian looks up apprehensively. Drake is resting his head on his hands on the steering wheel. Damian can't see his face, but he can see the tension in his shoulders. Drake is muttering something to himself. 

Damian puts the tablet on the back seat and folds his hands in his lap. He's prepared for what must inevitably come next, Drake turning all that bitingly clever anger on him, whittling away his self esteem until he's a child again, terrified of what Drake represents in their family. The one he must live up to. The one he _can't_ live up to. The one who's smarter than him, more respected, the one who could take Robin away from him, if he put his mind to it. All he has to do is present father with the right evidence, just like he presented the evidence he needed to become Robin.

"Gaymian."

Drake's shoulders are shaking.

"Gaaay-mee-an."

"Drake?" Damian flattens his hands on his lap, willing himself not to twist them together.

"Oh my god, Damian, that was the most fun I've had in..." Drake turns his head, still resting it on his hands, and his eyes are wet. Damian stares at him. Tears of laughter? The giggle that escapes Drake is almost silent, a stutter of air because he's laughing too hard to inhale. "The most fun... Oh god. When he started talking about the real world! I just... I just... this mental image, you know? Investment banking... That kid in an office... Gaaaaay-mee-an. Can you even? With, like, Oliver Queen, or Lex Luthor. And Gaaay-mee-ann trying to, trying to..." 

Drake can't get the rest of the thought out. 

"Sex Luthor," Damian says. His heart is racing and he isn't sure why, but he's never seen Drake laugh like this before and he wants to be part of it.

Drake howls with laughter, hands slipping from the wheel as his whole body spasms with it.

Damian snorts.

"Se- Se- Sex Lu..."

The snort turns into a chuckle.

The chuckle turns into a giggle.

The giggle turns into a guffaw.

And then he's gone. Gone like Drake, arms wrapped around himself because he's laughing so hard it hurts, face pressed against the head rest, tears staining down his face. They must be audible from the school, but Damian doesn't care. He's not sure he's ever laughed so hard on his life. 

Two years of teasing, but for this? It's like the longest set up to the best punchline. All the stress, all the tension, that Seb forced on him is bleeding out with the laughter. He hadn't realised how bad he'd been feeling about it, how much he'd dreaded seeing the other boy in the corridors. He's been powerless against him for so long, and it's over now. It doesn't matter if Seb starts up again, because Damian has taken the power back. He can laugh at him.

Slowly, slowly, they both recover themselves. Damian can get air into his lungs again. Tim can sit up. They find Kleenex, wipe their eyes, dry sweating palms on their pants. They can breath.

Tim puts the car into gear and pulls out of the school parking lot.

"Next time Bruce can't make it to a parent teacher conference, call me, okay? That was the most fun I've had all year." Tim flashes a smile at him, eyes crinkling in the corners, and warmth blooms in Damian's stomach. "And I mean it, about not going back if you don't want to. You don't have to put up with someone treating you that way, even if it's juvenile and petty. You don't have to deal with it on your own."

Damian sighs. "I shouldn't have hit him," he says. "I lost control, and I couldn't restrain myself."

"We both know you could have killed him without breaking a sweat, Damian. You did restrain yourself. If he leaves you alone now, then I'd argue you did the right thing. I will argue it to Bruce, if he gives you any trouble about this. It's not right of him to expect you to handle this in your own for so long." 

Tim's voice is serious now, but in a reassuring way. He's really not mad at Damian for dragging him out here. He's on Damian's side. Damian knows, objectively, that Tim is on his side at least in theory more often than not, especially in the big things, but he's willing to be on his side _against_ Bruce. He's a true ally.

"He didn't know," Damian defends his father, though he wants to drop the subject now. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. You're right; the boy won't bother me again."

"I'm right? Can I get that on tape? Put it in my diary, the brat wonder acknowledged that I, Timothy Jackson Drake, was right about something. Year of our Lord, yadda yadda, twelve hundred hours and forty two- Shit, is that really the time?" Tim shifts the car up a gear and the engine roars. "How do you feel about crashing a couple of lectures at college? I haven't got time to take you back to the mansion first."

Damian smiles at the windshield as the countryside speeds past them.

"That would be agreeable."

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, Alfred is fine, it's just seasonal allergies, but Damian is very much that sort of intelligent where because he sees things others don't he feels responsible for them, and he's been under pressure for months and he's catastrophising. He knows it, which means he doesn't even feel he can ask for help, because he doesn't want anyone to know how irrational he's being. Which is also why he hadn't told anyone about being teased; it feels so small compared with what he goes through as Robin it seems ridiculous to even bring it up. It's not ridiculous, and the batfam would definitely support him with it if they knew, but they haven't created the kind of environment where he feels comfortable bringing it up, so they're kinda failing there.
> 
> I haven't read Gotham Academy, so sorry for any major inconsistencies. Just going for a general posh school vibe. Posh schools love a bit of officially sanctioned bullying (ditching under performing students just before exams isn't uncommon either, sadly).
> 
> Finally, you have to say Gaymian in the Miss Vanjie voice. Go nasal, go whiney, go full on middle schooler about it. Tim only managed to keep a straight face because he was so angry, but it was a very close thing. Seb really did sound about nine.


End file.
